


Exchange

by quantumoddity



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Birthday Fluff, Birthday Presents, F/M, Family Fluff, Fluff, Pregnancy, Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-16
Updated: 2016-08-16
Packaged: 2018-08-09 01:41:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7781956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quantumoddity/pseuds/quantumoddity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eliza would always admit, somewhat guiltily, that she loved her birthday.<br/>Alexander liked birthdays as a concept. He just didn’t like his own that much.</p><p>Alex and Eliza's first birthdays after the wedding.  </p><p>I did start writing this on Eliza's birthday, in my defence, it just took a while, especially after I decided to write a companion piece for Alex. I know the ages aren't quite right but in my modern AU the whole timeline of Eliza getting pregnant with Philip and them moving in together and getting married is a little different (I will post other stuff about this soon!).</p><p>Comments/kudos are very much appreciated!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Exchange

Eliza would always admit, somewhat guiltily, that she loved her birthday. Call it the product of being a middle child but an entire day devoted to her, and only her, always sounded good. She only enjoyed it more when Alexander Hamilton whirled into her life. Her birthday was one of her fail-safe ways to pull him off his usual track of work and very little else, to get him to slow down and focus on her. It was the only thing she’d let herself be selfish about.

But, as with most things that involved Alex, there were some downsides. It was one of the basic laws of nature, well known amongst their friends; water was wet, fire was hot and Alexander Hamilton was an irritatingly competitive perfectionist, the kind that made him obsessed with finding the perfect present. He was already in some kind of half playful, half deadly serious battle against her sisters over who Eliza loved the most and it only intensified in the weeks leading up to August 9th. No matter how many times Eliza insisted that she just wanted to actually see him and spend some time with him, he wouldn’t be dissuaded. It was a little annoying, a little embarrassing and incredibly cute. Alexander all over.

 

Eliza had held out a forlorn hope that, as they got older, Alex would relent but apparently not. Even now, despite the fact that they were married, living in their first, cramped apartment and had a baby on the way, he wasn’t growing up too much.

It was surprisingly rainy, for early August. Eliza was woken by the steady thrumming of the droplets against the bedroom windows, which, surprisingly, put a smile on her face. It beat being woken up by morning sickness. And anyway, she loved the rain; it would be great for her plants.

She allowed herself a moment of childish delight, quietly giggling to herself as she dragged the heel of her hand over her eyes, after her brain slowly ground into gear and she remembered that she was now officially twenty-two years old. She could feel the heat radiating from Alex’s skin as he lay beside her before she actually opened her eyes and saw him. It was odd enough to have him beside her, on any other morning, he’d have jumped up and been bouncing around hours earlier. So she wasn’t surprised to find his eyes already open and alert, shining with his usual restless energy and watching her intently.

“Were you watching me sleep?” Eliza croaked, her voice cracking after a night’s worth of disuse.

He had the grace to look coy though his crooked grin clearly indicated that he didn’t feel that much remorse.

“Can you blame me?” he teased, wriggling to free one of his hands so he could reach out and tweak her nose, “Seeing as I had to stay in bed, I thought I might as well enjoy the beautiful view.”

Eliza yawned, using that as an excuse to turn her face away so Alex wouldn’t see how much she was blushing. She couldn’t quite believe he was real sometimes.

“You could have, y’know, slept. Like a normal person,” she retorted as she gingerly sat up.

Alex snorted at the very idea. He squirmed up behind Eliza, wrapping his arms around her middle and pressing a gentle kiss against the back of her neck.

“Happy birthday, by the way,” he murmured, pulling her as close as physically possible, enjoying the warmth and musk of her skin.

She grinned, leaning back into his embrace, “Thanks.”

“You feeling okay?” he asked softly, “Any sickness?”

“No actually,” she replied with mild surprise, finding where his hands were clasped over her stomach and threading his fingers through his, “Think I’ve got a day off.”

It had to be said, for all the time Alex took from home and gave to work, he made every effort to be as attentive and devoted as possible to his pregnant wife. He’d sat with her through countless ugly hours of morning sickness, held her gently when hormones brought tears to her eyes that she couldn’t explain, sent her rafts of thoughtful texts even when he was supposed to be paying attention to his cases. As scared as he had been when they’d first realised Eliza was expecting (and still was, if he let himself admit it) Alex was going to be a wonderful father.

“In that case,” his voice lowered, turned smoky, “Which do you want first? You’re actual present or…”

His hands moved away from her stomach, sliding down to her hips. Eliza grinned, turning a little so she could see his eyes shining excitedly with anticipation.

“Do you want your _other_ present first?”

She raised an eyebrow at him, “Given that you haven’t brushed your teeth yet? Actual present.”

“Ouch,” he laughed, feigning hurt but clearly he was just as eager to show her what he’d got for her.

He was really awful at keeping secrets, especially when it was something he was proud of; Eliza had endured weeks of triumphant grins and vague hints. She could see his excitement as he scrambled off of the bed and headed towards the wardrobe.

“That’s the best hiding place your phenomenal brain could come up with?” Eliza teased, lying back on the pillows and pulling the blanket around her.

“It was at my office until last night.” his voice came muffled from the depths of their second hand wardrobe, bought at a thrift store and filled with Eliza’s summer dresses and Alex’s oversized jumpers (starting positions at orphanages and law firms, even the best ones in New York, didn’t pay much).

“Devious,” she replied appreciatively, trying back her hair with the tie she kept perpetually around her wrist in an attempt to tame her bedhead.

“I know, right? Close your eyes, so you don’t see!”

Eliza obeyed and, a few moments later, she could feel a very, very heavy weight placed on the bed in front of her.

“Okay, ready? One, two, three…open them!”

Eliza had to laugh when she saw what was in front of her, “Why the hell did you make me close my eyes if it’s wrapped up?”

“Theatrics, my angel,” Alex grinned with an exaggerated hand gesture as he sat cross-legged facing her.

“You dork.”

In all fairness, he had made a real effort with the wrapping. It was something of an awkward shape, like a large cube with a chunk missing but Alex had wrestled it into submission, covering it semi-neatly in silvery paper. There was a huge blue bow on it and everything. Clearly he’d raided her craft box.

“This is really good, Alex!” she smiled admiringly as her fingertips brushed the silky fabric, “It’s my favourite colour.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” her husband replied proudly, ducking his head as his cheeks darkened with pleasure, like they always did whenever she praised him. Eliza tilted her head bemusedly.

“Well, go on then,” he prompted excitedly, “I want to see your face, come on.”

So Eliza deftly untied the ribbon and used her long nails to break the seal of the reams of sticky tape. She didn’t think she’d have much left in her craft box the next time she looked. Finally, she got through, pulled back the paper to find…

‘A typewriter!”

It was no bulky, metal antique like in black and white movies; it was all smooth lines, plastic painted the exact powdery blue he’d correctly identified as her favourite, retro and kind of kitschy. It was perfect.

Alex was about to open his mouth to nervously ask if she liked it but never even got a chance before she leant forward and kissed him hard. It was strange; his brain was always buzzing with a thousand different thoughts and ideas, all loud and immediate and demanding his attention. The only thing that ever managed to give him peace, the only time his mind stopped and slowed and focused on one thing, was when Eliza’s lips were on his.

“I did good then, huh?” he guessed, after they’d finally been forced apart by a need for oxygen.

“You did,” Eliza laughed, “I love it, thank you. Where on earth did you get it?”

“You know the old guy that runs the second hand bookstore you always go to? He sold me it.”

Eliza’s expression was soft and warm, “You didn’t spend too much, did you?”

“Nah, the guy adores you, it was all good. Though I did have to paint it myself and I may or may not have spilled some all over mine and Burr’s desk at work. So, y’know, I did pay dearly. Just not with money.”

Eliza snorted, remembering one evening last week when Alex had come back from work with a thunderous expression, grumbling about how Burr ‘had no sense of humour’ and ‘never knew when to let something go’ and ‘it’s going to wash out, for Christ’s sake’. She had a suspicion she’d just found out why.

“You’re the best, Alex,” Eliza said quietly, earnestly.

He rolled his eyes and shrugged his shoulders dismissively but it was obvious how pleased he was, how much those few words had touched him simply because they came from her.

Eliza rested her long fingers against the keys, imagining possible words and sentences and paragraphs that could now become physical with a pang and stamp of metal and ink. She could write letters, just like the ones Alex wrote for her like they were in some kind of modern adaption of War and Peace. They were usually cheesy as anything and her sisters gave her so much shit for it but she couldn’t deny that every time she woke up to find Alex already gone but a page of his deliberate handwriting tucked into her favourite mug or one of her files or the pocket of her coat, she felt her heart flutter like a bird. And now she could reply.

Wait…

“Did you get me a typewriter just so I’d write you letters back?” she narrowed her eyes in playful accusation.

Alex blushed, “No…it might be fun though. You do write beautifully.”

Now it was Eliza’s turn to squirm and grin coyly under a compliment.

“I will write you something,” she promised, slowly and thoughtfully resting her fingers over the A then the L, the E and then the X, “But I think I’d like to write to someone else first.”

He inclined his head quizzically, “Who?”

Eliza’s smile held unknowable depths as she raised one hand to rest on her lower abdomen, gesturing to the collection of cells deep inside her that was quickly becoming their baby.

“Them,” she said brightly.

Alex’s face softened and he smiled with so much pride that it wasn’t really pride anymore but something different.

“That sounds like a really nice idea,” he agreed.

Eliza sighed happily, hugging her knees tightly, regarding her husband with dark eyes. She gave him a crooked smile.

“So…my sisters are going to ring about half eleven. Does that give you enough time for us to brush our teeth and for you to, y’know…give me my other present?”

Alex’s eyes lit up with excitement, “You’re the birthday girl, my love. I am yours to command.”

 

-

 

Alexander liked birthdays as a concept. He just didn’t like his own that much.

He could only remember a handful of the ones spent in Puerto Rico and his mother had done her best but between her multiple jobs and the family’s barely there budget it had been hard. Pretty much all his other birthdays had been spent working, studying like a demon or, as soon as he was old enough, in a drunken haze.

So, as far as he was concerned, January 11nd was just a normal day where there was the vague possibility of cake and alcohol. If people wanted to tell him how great he was, they could do that any other day of the year. But this particular day wasn’t for celebrating.

And then he fell in love with Eliza, who listened to his insistence that he didn’t ‘do’ his birthday and promptly shook her head and told him that was dumb.

So when he came home from work on the evening before is birthday to find his very pregnant wife stopped him in the hall, grinning conspiratorially and telling him that he wasn’t allowed in the living room until tomorrow morning, he became immediately suspicious.

It had been a long and difficult day and he was sorely tempted to argue but he’d done enough of that already at work. And more importantly, with her lower belly sloping outwards hugely, knowing that their child lay just underneath her skin, he was finding it impossible to look at her and not smile. It wouldn’t be long now. The thought made his heart skip a beat.

“Eliza, you do realise I need to go through the living room to get _literally anywhere else_ in this apartment,” he pointed out, his grin a little forced.

“I thought of that,” Eliza replied breezily, stepping forward and reaching around his neck.

Before Alex could make a tired retort, she’d undone his tie (the only one he owned, in a rather garish money-coloured green that he insisted was very fashionable and Eliza wrinkled her nose at) and had slipped it around his eyes as a kind of makeshift blindfold.

“Wonderful,” he said drily as he let himself be lead by the hand.

 

He was, however, allowed to get up as early as he liked on his birthday and do as much work as he pleased until Eliza woke. It was tough to get her to leave her bed on any of her days off, especially days off when she was heavily pregnant, so he was deep into his report by the time she finally stirred. He’d done enough that he was happy to turn away from the desk that sat in the corner of their bedroom, away from his laptop, and watch her slowly wake, yawning and stretching elegantly, before gingerly shifting into a sitting position.

“Happy birthday!” she drawled sleepily, waving her hands in a sort of jazz hand celebratory gesture.

Alex chuckled, “Thanks, love.”

Not wanting her to have to get up, he jumped to his feet and crossed the room, eagerly accepting the kiss and hug she offered, aware to curve his body to avoid the swell of her’s.

“Want some tea?” he asked, hoping that he might be able to make this feel like more of a normal day, rather than a day that had the uncomfortable weight of one that should make him happy but he just couldn’t twist it so it would.

“Present first,” she reminded him, knowing exactly what he was doing, “You’re going to love it. I know you are.”

Alex accepted defeat, remembering how he’d acted on Eliza’s birthday and well aware he was being hypocritical, “Okay. Lead the way.”

And so he found himself standing in the doorway of his own front room with his eyes screwed shut, with Eliza warning him playfully not to peek. As if he would.

“Ready? Open them!”

His eyes swept over the room, eventually drawn towards the unfamiliar element.

She’d got him a piano. An honest to God, sleek, dark wood piano. It was clearly very old and very well made, something only a few decades away from being a fully-fledged antique. He went over to it; a little hesitant at first, running his hand over the richly coloured wood, feeling how smooth it was under his fingers. He touched the keys lightly, not hard enough to make them ring out, just the suggestion. He didn’t need to hear them to know that this instrument would sound beautiful.

“See? Because now we’ve got our own place and we’re not in dorms anymore, we’ve got enough space! You don’t have to play that ancient keyboard anymore,” Eliza explained excitedly, bouncing on her heels, “Just like you always wanted.”

Alex opened his mouth but it was a few moments more before he could actually make any sound, “Eliza, I…I don’t know what to say.”

She laughed delightedly, “Well there’s no higher compliment than that, coming from you.”

“I mean, wow, this is just…” he stammered, “I can’t believe you did this for me.”

Eliza inclined her head with a gentle smile, leaning against the wall to ease the weight off of her ankles.

“Seriously, Eliza, how on earth did you afford this, this thing’s ancient,” Alex exclaimed, running his hand through his unruly hair.

“Didn’t cost me anything actually, it was gathering dust in one of the spare rooms in my mom and dad’s house,” she explained, matter of factly.

Alex was still getting used to hearing his wife talk about money like it was no big deal, like it was nothing to worry about.

“You gave me a Schuyler family heirloom?” he breathed, trying and failing to keep the horror out of his voice.

Eliza had been expecting this. She moved and perched awkwardly on half of the piano bench, pulling Alex down onto the other half.

“Of course I did, Alex. You’re part of my family now,” she said simply, as if she was stating the most obvious fact in the world.

Alex suddenly pretended to be very, very interested in the piano keys, bending over to make the fact that his eyes were filling with bewildered but delighted tears less obvious. Eliza was triumphant, winding her arm around his and leaning against him, satisfied. Alex held her back, resting one gentle hand on her belly.

“So, are you going to play something?” she asked, once he’d gathered himself a little.

“Only if you sing,” Alex grinned back at her.

Eliza blushed. She knew he adored listening to her sing, though she’d never rate her voice particularly highly. Only for Alexander.

“You’re the birthday boy. I am yours to command,” she replied.

Alex recognised his own words and laughed.

They were both surprised when the baby suddenly sprung to life, nudging insistently against his mother’s skin and his father’s palm. This time, Alex couldn’t blink back the tears before they began running down his face. Eliza’s smile was radiant.

“Happy birthday, Alexander,” she murmured softly.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on tumblr, quantum-oddity


End file.
